


Fucking Snake

by bactaqueen



Category: AFI, Rancid
Genre: Apples, M/M, Rough Sex, Snakes, creation myths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2018-02-17 01:49:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2292446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bactaqueen/pseuds/bactaqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim, Davey, apples, snakes, creation myths.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fucking Snake

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people or events is entirely coincidental. 
> 
> Author’s Note: Originally posted November 2006.

Tim said, “Come outside,” and it was such a simple request that even though his stomach clenched and his body rebelled at the thought of what would happen--and he knew it would, the scene was written out in Tim’s eyes--he couldn’t say no.

 

Davey went outside.

 

Far, far back from the house, in the depths of the orchard where it smelled like wet earth and rotting apples, Tim pushed him down. The ropes were scaly, stretchy, and Davey wouldn’t look. He didn’t want to see the snake skin around his wrists and ankles and know that something had died so Tim could have this.

 

Something always had to die.

 

The ground was wet and gave, molded to his back and his ass and his thighs. He felt the crushed grass, the cracking and rotting leaves, the squish of the rotting apples, the sickly-sweet dirt that ground into his skin and left smears. His clothes... he didn’t know. He always lost track when Tim’s hands were on him, stripping him, and then forcing him down. Tim’s mouth and his hands and his body made Davey forget important things. Like how they shouldn’t be doing this.

 

Davey shut his eyes against the darkness and tried to breathe. Tim was over him now, biting and scratching and kissing so roughly it felt like bites. He tried to twist away, but Tim’s hands just bruised. His shoulders and collarbones and hips and thighs. His thighs. Tim pushed his legs apart, so wide, bit his nipples until they bled, sank down.

 

Teeth. Teeth and lips that needed balm, a rough tongue. Davey moaned but the trees didn’t stir. All the blood rushed down there and when Tim bit, Davey was sure it would spill out and fill his mouth. He would die like that, his blood on Tim’s face. His cum in Tim’s mouth. Because Tim wouldn’t kill him until then, Davey knew. He never did.

 

Davey arched and screamed when Tim shoved two fingers, dry, into him and wriggled and stretched them. He tried to squirm away but he couldn’t, the snakes held him. Charmer, he thought bitterly. Tim was the snake charmer. Tim licked his cock and Davey forgot about the pain of those fingers in his ass, and then Tim sucked all of him down and Davey couldn’t even remember his own name.

 

It was warm and wet and rotting there, too.

 

Tim fucked him and he sucked him, and Davey fell into rhythm between the fingers and the tongue, and the snakeskin stretched and twisted and rubbed his skin raw, and the leaves stuck to his hair and dirt got in his mouth. He smelled blood and sweat and dirt and death, and when his hips bucked and his back arched and he screamed again into the cold still night, he smelled sex and life.

 

Temptation came to Eve in the form of a snake offering the fruit of knowledge, and she took it. Temptation came to Tim in the form of Davey and all the rotten things they did together, and he always gave in. Tim spat Davey’s spunk on the ground and slid up. Davey turned his face away. He didn’t want the kiss that would follow. Tim thought he needed it and, yeah, he did, but not like that. He wasn’t some fucking woman. He was the fucking snake and he knew it.  


End file.
